


Dreams Of An Absolution

by hedaofchaos



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Hurt, M/M, Nightmares, Oneshot, Paradise, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, also created a playlist to this, crappy summary I'm sorry, i wrote this at 1 am, spoilers for the entire series, takes place after the events of the death cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedaofchaos/pseuds/hedaofchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have made it to paradise. It is time to forget, and start over.<br/>But the past hovers above Thomas like a dark cloud, threatening to swallow him whole in its darkness. </p><p>__</p><p>In which Thomas has nightmares and seeks comfort in conversations with Newt on a hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams Of An Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is just something I needed to get out of my system. It's a one shot and has no relation to any au I've written.  
> It's the first non-au thingy I've done so please bear with me.  
> I appreciate every form of feedback, either on here or on my twitter @shuckitommy x

A gentle breeze caressed Thomas' face as he made his way through the thick forest. Branches and leaves crunching under his feet caused the animals hiding in his surroundings to flee in all directions and the flock of birds above him flew away, flapping their wings loudly in an attempt to float along with the wind. The brunette barely even perceived his environment – his mind was solely focused on the destination of his path and he anticipated what awaited him there.

 

*

 

It was shortly after they made it to _Paradise_ when the nightmares had started to occur every night – _ear-piercing cries, grievers, scorching heat, cranks, gunshots,_ _blood,_ _death_. He woke up, screaming and sweating and trembling and gasping for air and _he just couldn't bear it anymore._ He needed to _run -_ escape from the memories that haunted him in his sleep – so he tumbled out of the sleeping place and dashed into the deep forest, running aimlessly around, dodging branches and swerving tree trunks.

 

He ran on and on and on, until he, after what seemed like hours, reached a clearing. It was about the size of a football-field, slightly uphill, and a soothing silence hung over the place. As Thomas had slowed his pace to a mere walking, he became aware of the familiarity of this location – it was like a disregarded piece of memory that kept nagging at his consciousness, begging for attention - until everything fell into place; this area was a copy of the _Deadheads,_ which was the closest thing to a graveyard they had back then in the _Glade_. The lush grass was covered with black, smooth stones which, Thomas presumed, represented tombstones.

 

It was odd how such an unsettling place could have such a calming effect on the turmoil inside Thomas' head. He sat down next to one of the black stones and perceived they had no inscriptions – _yet_ , he thought to himself.

 

Suddenly Thomas heard someone approaching him from behind, the noisy footsteps giving the intruder away. Before he could turn around though, a soft and familiar voice greeted him:

 

“Hey, Tommy.”

 

*

 

Ever since that day, Thomas had come to the Deadheads frequently. And Newt was always there. But the last two weeks he was occupied with helping Minho and the others to build lodges. His heart ached for the blonde, it felt like an eternity had passed during that period of time. Naturally, Thomas' excitement had reached its maximum when he stepped out of the forest and hurried into the clearing.

 

He walked up to a certain black stone, which was fairly larger, more gleaming and in general more conspicuous than the others – _Newt's and his meeting point –_ and couldn't suppress a smile forming on the corners of his mouth when he spotted the former _Runner_ leaning onto it, facing the opposite direction.

 

Thomas occupied the spot beside Newt, but the latter didn't face him, he maintained staring into space. The brunette took the opportunity to take a closer look at Newt's physique – and sadly observed that his lean body seemed to be worn out. New scratches and bruises covered the exposed skin; _oh how he wanted lay his lips on the delicate flesh and trail kisses along the ugly marks in order to make them disappear._

 

Newt _finally_ tore his gaze from the nothingness he was looking into to face Thomas; his body might have worn some of the tiredness, but his face was worse – it practically _screamed_ exhaustion.

The bags under his eyes were nearly as dark as the tombstone they were leaning on and his eyes had almost completely lost their spark. Newt managed to crack a smile but Thomas immediately detected it as forced and fake. Seeing this made his heart shatter into a million pieces.

 

“I missed you, Tommy,” the boy confessed, tired eyes burning into Thomas'.

 

“I missed you too, you shank.”

 

Although Thomas already knew the answer – he had asked this question many times before – he still added:

“What happened to you?”, he pointed at the clearly visible marks on Newt's face, “the bruises?”

 

Newt shook his head slowly and uttered, a light chuckle escaping his lips:

“Bloody hell, Tommy. I thought you had gotten over the annoying _Greenie_ phase with all the bloody questions, but I guess you never will. Once a Greenie, always a Greenie huh?”

 

Thomas was glad for the blonde's attempt at a joke, because it certainly lifted the mood.

 

“Another trial?”, the brunette asked, worried.

 

The boy only managed a small nod.

He had told him before that WICKED was done with Thomas and the others – the reason why they were put into _Paradise_ \- but they still needed Newt for other trials. For what exactly or why he of all people Newt had never mentioned. And Thomas hadn't asked. All he wanted was for the boy to join him and the other Gladers in Paradise, but Newt said he couldn't. Not until all the trials were successfully conducted.

The hatred towards WICKED and their members grew continually; he detested them for letting Newt – _his_ Newt – relive the horrors of the experiments. And he hated that there was no way to stop this madness.

At least they allowed him to go see Thomas here in Paradise; it was the best that they could get and certainly better than nothing.

 

“Minho misses you. He never tells, of course, but he does. I can see it in his eyes when anyone mentions your name,” Thomas stated with a weak voice before he pleaded:

“Please go and see him.”

 

Newt mumbled while shaking his head:

“I can't Tommy. They won't let me.”

 

“This isn't fair Newt. Why you? I need you here. _We all_ need you here. You're our _Glue_ remember? And without you we're falling apart. _I_ am falling apart,” Thomas sighed, his eyes suddenly moist with tears which he blinked away.

 

Newt's gaze bore through the brunette with such an intensity, and for a moment the spark Thomas had deemed to be lost returned into those warm, amber eyes.

Thomas didn't even try to deter himself from blurting it out.

 

“I love you, Newt.”

 

The sight before him was astounding; the blonde's face lit up like the night sky at New Year's Eve, he even managed a smile – a _sincere, genuine_ one – and it sent a wave of reassurance through him, like the world was going to be okay again. He perceived Newt's eyes filling with tears as he uttered those words:

 

“I loved you too, Tommy”

 

_Loved? Why was he speaking in past tense? Wh-_

 

His thoughts were disrupted by the nearby shouts of his name. Thomas turned his head to see Minho, Brenda and some of group B running towards him. As he stood up, the Asian blurted out:

“We were looking for you, shuckface! Have you been here the whole time? We heard you talking to yourself. Are you okay?”

 

“I wasn't talking to myself. I was talking to Newt,” Thomas retorted assuredly. He glimpsed at the spot where the blonde had confessed his love seconds ago, only to find it vacated. Newt was gone.

 

Minho was startled at first, but soon his expression went from disbelief to sheer sadness.

“Thomas. Newt has been dead for a year now. I understand that you need to grieve, but you can't stay like this forever. It's time to move on.”

 

“No, Minho, he was sitting right th-”

 

Thomas stopped talking when he took a closer look at the place where Newt had been sitting. Never had he noticed the inscription on the tombstone until now.

It said the following, in big, bold letters:

 

 

**NEWT**

 

 

Thomas felt his whole world crumbling down and suddenly he was crushed by the memories he had successfully suppressed until now.

 

_The following people are not immune: Newt_

 

_It's for the best. Thanks for being my friends. Goodbye._

 

_Kill me. If you've ever been my friend, kill me._

 

_You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy?_

_I tried to kill myself in the Maze. I hated the place, Tommy. And it was all..your..fault!_

 

_Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters!_

 

_KILL ME!_

 

_Please, Tommy. Please_

 

_What have I done?_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I created a playlist for the songs I've been listening to while writing this oneshot and here's the link: http://8tracks.com/shuckitnewt/dreams-of-an-absolution


End file.
